


Smitten

by mara87



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Humor/Fluff, Post Crimson Horror, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-19
Updated: 2013-07-19
Packaged: 2017-12-20 16:33:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/889448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mara87/pseuds/mara87
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Doctor Who Fic in Yorkshire, alters The Crimson Horror ending part of Victorian Yorkshire a bit/scene extender</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smitten

**Smitten**

"Doctor, a moment?"

Madame Vastra requested, getting the Doctor’s forehead to furrow, his nose wrinkling. He really had intended on getting back into the Tardis quick-like after getting the crimson horror under wraps. Clara was waiting for him inside the Tardis. Time to go. _Clara_ \--ah.

 _She was the boss._ So sneakily stated. _She was the boss?_ Well if she was the boss, who had the key, eh? Him, so yeah, _HE_ was the boss.

Who could fly the Tardis? Only him. Um, _hmmm_ , Clara did fly it those couple of times, but how could anyone call that _flying?_ Her feet hadn’t been on the floor and it took him practically a half hour to get things settled. _Okay_ , a lie. Only five minutes at most. However, when the two of them were sailing through the air chaotically on the outside of the Tardis, as she _flew_ it, he swore even the ghost was shaking with fear.

“So you found her again?”

The Doctor broke out of his musings, answering rapidly. “No. That’s not the same Clara of course. Because there’s no way it could be. That’s impossible. She’s just Clara—Oswald.”

Madame Vastra’s green scaly lizard eyebrows went up with that kind of knowing puzzlement she liked to show. This argument was going to get weird no doubt, the Doctor thought, as he still hadn’t taken the cube apart enough to figure out how to get it back together in a way that time made sense. Er, the cube of Clara Oswald.

“She’s not the same person.”

“She’s _not?_ And yet the name, _Clara_ , again?”

“Coincidence. Simple coincidence. I _think_.”

Madame Vastra asked with a touch of shock, “You don’t know for certain Doctor?”

After all, he was _the_ Doctor. It was quite alarming that he still had no idea who the girl was and yet was traveling with her. _Perhaps_ …Madame Vastra’s subsequent thought made a knowing smile surface upon her lips.

“What?” The Doctor asked apprehensively. That smile could be troublesome.

“You’re practically jumping to get away from here.”

“Eh?”

“You’re smitten with her.”

The Doctor immediately feigned innocence. “Smitten. With who?”

Madame Vastra was not one to be fooled though so easily. “Clara of course.”

Talk about the most preposterous thing to say. The Doctor laughed hard, his eyes wrinkling with the action and his big chin bouncing. “Oh right..ha ha ha…tidyo I don’t think so! Too short, too bossy and that nose! Wooo! No.”

It didn’t work, Madame Vastra seeing through the wandering protest instantly. And so she should probably disapprove, right?

Actually it brought out an element to the doctor she hadn’t witnessed in a very long time. A refreshing element. His eyes were bouncing with rainbow excitement, the desire to travel with his new companion so evident. The funk was gone.

 _Oh companionship._ She had that with her beloved, oh so tantalizing… _she looked amazing in her catsuit_ …Jenny. Now it seemed the Doctor might be finding that kind of relationship too with Clara. It was quite a sight to see, but as a keen lizard woman who had been in many interplanetary battles and such, Madame Vastra had to err caution too of course.

“It is quite a relief to see you this way after all your sulking for so many years.”

The Doctor took offense to that right away, giving a 1000 year old grimace. “Eh, I don’t sulk. I was just having an off period…for err…some years or so. I—well I’m the Doctor! I’ve saved billions of lives and the planet Earth, and so many other planets time and time again. I can take some time off if I want to! Now I’m back on.”

“Back on what precisely?” Madame Vastra asked smoothly. “Clara?”

 _Ooooh_ …that sounded a bit naughty. “Yes!” The Doctor answered excitedly with a lift of his finger and then catching Madame Vastra’s lizard eyebrow lift, shook his head furiously, finger way down. “No. No. Not _on_ Clara. Not---oh just leave it at that.”

Madame Vastra laughed some. The Doctor could be quite amusing at times. However there was some seriousness to this matter too. She straightened up, standing closer to him. “Doctor. As I said, it is quite refreshing to see you no longer sulking. Just be careful. Clara still is an enigma, a possible threat. You and I both know there are many in the universe who would love to trap you in some way or another. Err on the side of caution.”

The Doctor sighed. Madame Vastra was simply looking out for him, something he was grateful for. But Clara was not a threat. She was not even the other Oswalds he met before. It was _impossible_ for her to be so. His big chin was unyielding on that, and his eyes too, mouth fixed.

“Well, I’ll take no more of your time as your focus is obviously elsewhere.” Madame Vastra gestured to the Tardis with meaning, getting the Doctor to huff, before he smiled a little too widely.

“Right, well until the next mystery or whatever it may be. See you!”

He raced a little too gleefully to the Tardis, getting Madame Vastra to shake her head with a small smile. Let’s hope none of this was any sort of ensnarement for the Doctor seemed quite happy. And that pleased her for if anyone deserved some peace away from the world’s troubles, it was the Doctor indeed.

*

When the Doctor entered the Tardis he could hear quite a bit of grunting and complaint.

“Did you do this too? First you turn my hair into a mess of curls atop my head like a whacky bird’s nest and now you won’t even let me undress. What’s next you old-

“Oi!” The Doctor ran over, interrupting fast. “I told you not to insult her Clara! She doesn’t like it. And don’t blame her for what happened with your hair.”

Clara turned on the Doctor. “One minute I was curling it. The next I had ringlets so tight because she turned up the heat in the room to highest humidity, I looked like I had just escaped a rainforest! And that crazy Mrs. Gillyflower kept it that way when she tried to turn me into one of her apocalyptic brainless dolls of perfection.”

To the first part of that last sentence the Doctor gave a fast shake of his head as he pulled the levers to get them out of Victorian Yorkshire. “No. No. It wasn’t that. Probably the curling iron I gave you. Told you it was so many years old. Left over from another companion.”

“Who?” Clara asked curiously.

The Doctor just waved his hand now that they were flying in space. “Oh I don’t know. Been so many.”

“With curling irons?” Clara asked inquisitively, fisting her hands at her waist, showing perhaps a smidgen of jealousy.

“And more.” The Doctor airily answered, moving his long legs in some kind of clumsy awkward and yet queerly enough elegant spin. It would be a baffling sight, how he got all those to mix so well, if Clara wasn’t so accustomed to it by now. She moved her tongue over her lip, seeming a bit nervous, before giving a bright smile.

The Doctor took a step back. _Typical Clara_. Shy one minute. Calculating idea-seeking the next. Clever Clogs she was indeed. “Doctor?”

“Yes?” He fumbled with his hands as his feet did little half spins.

“Would you help me?” Clara turned around rapidly before her more cautious side could make her change her mind. “My bustle is in the way. Can’t reach the hooks. Could you?”

She turned with a sweet smile so that her back was to him. It caused his hands to fumble even more as he stepped up to reach her, trying to not look overly excited, giving what was meant to be a smooth reply. “Oh. Sure. I can do that.”

It didn’t quite come out all _that_ calmly, a bit of squeak in his voice at the end.

“So what took you so long?” Clara asked, wanting to fill the silent air as the Tardis’s flight pattern at this particular was smooth sailing. Sometimes she wheezed like a panting animal. Doctor told her that was because the Tardis was so old. _Hmmm_ , Clara had to wonder if maybe the Doctor was just doing something wrong. It wouldn’t be the first time. After all he kept getting them lost.

 _Hooks_. The Doctor thought as he took in the back of Clara’s gown, shoulders bent because she was so much smaller than him. Of course hooks. It was a Victorian dress after all. They don’t put a zipper on a Victorian dress. Just hooks, _many many hooks_. Perhaps a hundred. No, that was ridiculously stupid, but there were definitely a lot.

The Doctor decided to pretend he was working on the Tardis. _These were Tardis hooks_. Just that. And he wasn’t fidgeting. Not at all. He was dealing with complicated machinery. “Oh Vastra just wanted to have a word with me.” Okay a quarter ways down, skin started to reveal itself in itty bitty proportions. _Not very Tardis-like_.

Each time he undid a hook his fingers brushed against her skin in just the slightest touch. They were like whispers being blown. Clara stood still through it without outward reaction, thinking of what she noticed in Sweetville and telling the Doctor about it. “She did that thing like you do. Actually so did Jenny. And even Strax some, although he was sort of hard to figure out.”

 _Hmmm_ , about maybe half more of the _Tardis_ hooks. In that moment the Tardis gave a small murmur. The Doctor swore it sounded like disapproval. Oh the old girl, she didn’t like so much having a new girl. But Clara and she were getting along better now, _somewhat that is_. She didn’t lock her out anymore. That was progress.

The more he revealed the more the Doctor couldn’t help pondering on Clara’s skin, forgetting the Tardis. It was nice. Soft. Human. Unblemished except for-

“Doctor?” Clara asked with a rush of breath, feeling his hand make more contact with her upper back, before it skittered away.

“Oh.” Tempting skin. The Doctor nodded his head busily, getting back to his task without touching so much. “He’s a potato head. Of course he’s hard to figure out.”

Clara needed to talk. If she kept talking she wouldn’t pay attention so much to what he was doing, and she liked talking anyway. But oh, everything with the Doctor sometimes was so complicated, even just talking. “Yes. Okay. So he is. But Madame Vastra and Jenny, they looked at me sometimes the same as you do. Like they’d seen me before. Do I remind them too of that person who is dead that you once mentioned?”

The Doctor’s hands stopped moving as slowly Clara turned back to him, her face questioning, uneasiness hitting her lips and eyes. _Well of course. He told her she reminded him of someone dead._ That wasn’t exactly the most comforting thing to hear, but sometimes he wasn’t that great at being sensitive speaking. So now he _showed_ it instead. His hands reached out, touching her cheeks, both strongly cupping them.

 _Oh, the Doctor’s hands._ Clara thought about it. One minute he could be awkward and the next, like now, he was in control, reaching out to her specifically.

“Clara, I’m almost sorry I told you that.” His fingers rolled around her cheeks, rubbing here and there. Gently. The Doctor was overwhelmed sometimes by how much his fingers itched to reach out to Clara, hold her face steady so he could gaze into her eyes without disturbance.

Those hands were still tendering against her skin, but Clara’s adamant determination of who she was and why that was important surfaced thoroughly now. “I told you before that if you want me to travel with you just because-

His finger found her lip, stilled on it firmly, getting Clara’s eyes to widen some. “It’s not because of any ghost Clara. It’s just you. I want to travel with _you_.”

She nodded her head and turned away, feeling his hands fall with the motion.

The Doctor’s eyes fixed with thought as soon as she wasn’t looking. The Tardis made another one of those weird sounds like it was reacting to his thoughts. The Doctor gave a grimace at it. Often he lied. The Tardis knew that well. It wasn’t a _total_ lie though. Mysteries had to be solved. Clara’s mystery. But it wasn’t like he didn’t enjoy traveling with her at all. To the contrary. He enjoyed it very much.

The hooks unclipped faster now under the Doctor’s working hands. As he got down to the lowest part, Clara reached up and undid her wildly curling hair so it was no longer bound and up. It fell to brush over her shoulders, a bit shorter now with the curl.

 _Dare me to?_ The Doctor thought suddenly of asking, but did not as now with the dress entirely unhooked, Clara’s back was a full picture to him, a divine portrait. His hand traveled upward, slowly, without any dare, like she was a mountain cascade to venture, enjoy the sight of. But then it stopped.

Clara’s breath hitched, holding there. _This mad man_. Sometimes she wanted to get far away from him, all his oddities. Other times she wanted to push backward and feel them flood her senses. Like now.

“What is this?” The spot found, a blemish upon the otherwise untouched skin, the Doctor asked, his chin almost resting upon Clara’s shoulder as his lips moved near her cheek to whisper.

Clara’s expression was one of perplexity at first along with tingles of excitement. His fingers were a bit cold, especially up higher. The ends were warmer. And she was half inclined to back up further to them. “What-

Then she remembered, understanding what he was touching, that particular spot. “Oh. I loved the swings as a little girl. Fell off one time. Hit my back. Not knowing there was some sharp plastic there on the ground. Had to get a few stitches. Cried all the way to hospital. But my mum, she just kept brushing my hair away from my forehead, telling me it’d be alright. And it was.” Clara mused with a smile that tingled with warning wet tears. They threatened to come, but her smile mostly pushed them away. “She held my hand all the time as the physician did the work, let me squeeze as hard as I needed to. I know. Her hand was almost red when it was done.”

 _Her mum._ The Doctor knew Clara lost her mum. He also knew what it was to lose. _Too many times._ His hand traveled up a little more, not comparing the hooks to any Tardis now, delving into the parchment imperfections of human skin. Its beauty in Clara. He was half inclined to kiss the mark, but just gave a little blow with his lips instead, inches away.

Clara’s eyes closed, the sensation of him so close, and that sudden warm air across her naked skin making her fill with sensations that were not unpleasant. “Doctor-

“Done. Finished.” He stated now with certainty, jumping away and doing one of those little wild spins. “All done Clara! You can do whatever you wanted—to do now.”

“Bath. I need a bath.” Clara stated, her eyes watching him curiously as the Doctor now seemed more fidgety. She kind of liked that. Usually when he grew awkward she could be more audacious. Now she could be the boss or at least _feel_ more the boss. “After that whole Sweetville debacle, uggghh…” She gave a shake of her body in disgust, inadvertently dislodging the sleeve from her shoulder.

The Doctor watched with goggle eyes as more skin was revealed. “Er, yeah.” He ran forward, pulling the sleeve back up before the dress totally gave way.

As he stepped away Clara could practically smell his nervousness. It was all around them. That had been a bit risky there, nearly having her dress fall off. He protected her though, saved her like he kept wanting to and so now she was keen to turn it on. That vibe. “What about you? Needing of a bath?”

The Doctor fiddled with the console, hearing the Tardis give out a grating sound that was almost like a snicker. “Shut up.”

“What was that?” Clara asked.

He turned around for just a quick moment, seeing her standing so near behind. “Oh no, wasn’t talking to you.”

He went back to fiddling with the console even though it really didn’t need any fiddling at the moment.

“Then who were you—

Clara started to ask, and then stopped, looking up, eyes venturing there before she let them roll. “ _Oh_ , you’re talking to your ship again. _Creepy_.”

“You’ve talked to her before.”

Clara defended righteously. “Well I had to when I wanted to save you from that ghost! And you never answered my question.”

Question. _What question?_ “Eh?”

Her eyes gave a twinkle of clever interest. Oh that voice. Sometimes it held his 1000 years of age, contrasted with his quite intriguing looks. “Aren’t you needing of a bath too Doctor? Or is that something that aliens don’t require so much? After all you are one. Alien. Man.”

He smiled at that with a flash of fun in his eyes. _Oh Clara. How she liked to play._ Maybe it wasn’t even intention. She just knew how to get him a little more invigorated for certain. “We can go without it for some time, but eh—well it’s not bad to have one. Just not together. That is, you and I.”

He was smirking, seeming so sure of himself that Clara responded smoothly. “Did I _say_ together?”

“No.” He started to say, but _‘the boss’_ was not done.

Clara took a step forward, stroking his ship’s console with two fingers, stroking it right next to his hand. “Didn’t you tell me once Doctor that there are possibly thousands of hidden rooms upon this ship? Must be more than one bathroom.”

Flustered, the Doctor brought his head up and down rapidly. “Yes, well-

Sometimes she didn’t know where it came from, but the boldness was back in spades with all his faltering and awkwardness. Clara took a step further forward, clearly invading the Doctor’s sense of personal space. Whatever that was at the moment. She tapped his nose playfully. “Getting a little much to the forward setting there weren’t you Doctor. _But heel Boy_. I like to bathe alone.”

“Shut up.” He snapped as Clara laughed, but then before she could saunter out the Doctor was advancing too.

It was this magnetic little dance between them really. _Pull away and the other would come back._ Can’t deny the chemical attraction. So why even try? She shivered at the touch of his hand, feeling him holding onto the gathering material of her dress to turn her around. His hand so firm and big, it was easy for him to do so. Clara looked up, seeing the most inquiring eyes, flashing with the blue lights of the Tardis. “What?”

“Why do you sometimes call me _Boy?_ ” The Doctor asked, his eyebrows scaling hard above his eyes. He was scrutinizing and collecting, assessing, and determining, like his Sonic Screwdriver. After all she was the mystery. _Boy_ was that word she uttered to him before dying. The other Clara that is. So… _why?_

“Habit.” Clara stated without any real thought. Other guys she dated, she never used it. The word—boy.

“I’m not a boy. I’m a thousand years old Clara.”

Her eyes blinked. She knew that. Sometimes it was a little hard to remember since he didn’t look anything like a thousand, unless aging that far made you age back…back to your best. Because, taking away for a moment that big old chin, he was most definitely attractive.

“I know.”

He reached out, gathering her cheeks with both his hands. “There has to be a reason. It’s like you-

“Like I what?” She asked uncertainly, taking a step back. Sometimes he was just very intense. A man who was an alien. Days, months ago he had been a virtual stranger. Yet now she traveled with him from place to place regularly. In his big little blue box. Just the two of them. _Alone. Together alone._

It was definitely a bit ludicrous, but every time she heard those whining engines she found herself rushing out of the house to meet him, eager to find out where she was going to go next with the Doctor.

The Doctor gave a shake at her question, bringing his hands away and down. “No. Nothing. Take your bath.”

She fisted her hands at hip. “I’m the boss.”

“Eh.” He didn’t like that.

“I’ll decide when.”

Short pause.

 _“Now.”_ Clara walked determinedly away from him, down the hall-

“Ah! Clara!”

“Oh.” She turned. “Enough talk. We’ll be landed soon.”

“I know that, but Clara-

_“WHAT?”_

He lifted his hand, pointing his finger. “You’re going to the _garage_. The room for bathing is that way.” He pointed in the other direction.

Her eyes lifted to the ceiling.

_Calling for patience? Cursing the Old Girl?_

“I _knew_ that. I did. You needn’t tell me.” She attempted to smoothly turn the other way, and walked down _that_ hall with a bit of a quicker step. No doubt she wanted to simply get out of his viewing distance.

The Doctor let out a little amused snicker after she was gone and turned back to the console of the Tardis, spotting a tiny flickering mirror image of himself in the glass.

He was smiling. _Widely smiling._ Intrigued. Interested. Confused. And happy.

He looked back to the hall, shaking his head. Timey wimey, was Madame Vastra right? _Was he-_

*

Oh the water felt so good, so massaging and invigorating all the same, flowing down her naked body, getting rid of the Sweetville experience, but still she could feel the touch of his fingers on her back. Grazing across the scar with interest and with the sweetest care. So divine that touch. So full of enigma. So-

 _What was she thinking?_ Why did he keep doing this to her? Clara brought her head back under the cascades of water, done with the soap, letting it flutter away. As her heart beat a little faster and the thought of him did something so crazy. She stared at that image of herself in the metal’s shine. Smiling. Blushing smiling.

_Oh Doctor…what are you doing to me? Making me say I’m the boss. Making me demand it. Making me—_

_“So smitten with you.”_

The words whispered from her lips, she closed her eyes, dreaming, desiring, and magnetically holding on. To whatever it was. Whatever he brought her.

*

 _Smitten._ That’s what Vastra said. That he was smitten. But that was preposterous. That was—

He was the Doctor. He didn’t get smitten feelings. _He didn’t-_

His fingers still tingled with it. He raised them now to his eyes. To look. To ponder. Where he touched the imperfection of her back. The beautiful parchment of a scar. Smitten? Smitten!

His eyes closed, delving. The attraction to not be fought. The mystery to be solved. The companion he had to keep holding hand of.

Smitten?

Oh so complicated. So tangled with no clear answer.

Smitten.

_Maybe._

____________

Hugs! Thanks for reading. :)


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